


WOY Mini-Fic-A-Thon 2016 - Ordinary Decent Conqueror

by 3amepiphany



Series: Woy Mini-Fic-A-Thon 2016 [8]
Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 01:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7385509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3amepiphany/pseuds/3amepiphany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was legal, honest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WOY Mini-Fic-A-Thon 2016 - Ordinary Decent Conqueror

**Author's Note:**

> http://omegalovaniac.tumblr.com/post/146889106849/any-chance-for-a-cute-black-eye-for-doc-a-thon
> 
> To sumbit a prompt (tomorrow is the last day!): http://omegalovaniac.tumblr.com/post/146847513034/woy-mini-fic-a-thon

The rule was easy. No talking.

They showed up at the museum, ready to roll, and the docent graciously welcomed Peepers to their establishment for the private tour he’d had scheduled. It had recently been remodeled (as had most everything else in the galaxy really) and the good Commander was on their list of private donors responsible for that. Sylvia knew this because they’d had a very serious discussion about good deeds, reparations, and the like.

He’d rolled his eyes and said, “I really could have done a terrible thing, and taken art during our rule. I’m not that heinous.”

“I know you aren’t. You’ve got merits. It’s why I haven’t completely laughed you out of my ballpark,” she told him, smiling.

She was giving him that same smile now, taking off her sunglasses and putting them in the inside pocket of her jacket, and waiting for the docent to return with their audio tour equipment. It was his game they were playing here. His ballpark. This wing of the museum was theirs today.

They reached the first sign directing them to prepare for the tour. No food or drink, no cameras, phones on silent. Earbuds in. Press the Museum’s icon on the Auditour device to begin. They looked at each other, fingers poised above the icon, and he asked if she was ready. She was ready. On the count of three, they activated the tour.

They approached the first room. She studied the first piece the tour was going on about, a wispy and muted landscape. The audio spoke about the artist’s history, where they grew up and how it affected much of their work. Slowly, they moved from piece to piece, examining the differences in years, in techniques, in passions. Peepers paced himself just a few steps behind her, and as they had finished that first room, she nearly turned to him with her device in hand, probably to ask if his audio was off. But she’d caught herself and remained quiet. There wasn’t too much of a gap between them, anyways. He was trying to be careful about that.

What he hadn’t mentioned to her was that he’d chosen this museum because it had been one of his favorites. They had a wide variety of regular exhibits and often attracted the larger names and more spectacular pieces in the art world. Truthfully there wasn’t anything up like that at the moment; they were still bringing back and categorizing the pieces they’d rushed to take out of the galaxy in Dominator’s bid for destruction, and they were taking the opportunity to clean and restore several pieces that needed the attention and hadn’t gotten it timely enough. But he’d visited here several times when he and Hater were in this quadrant. Museums were important. Art was important. He wasn’t necessarily so depraved as to raid and take or redistribute. It was all an incredible reminder of the civilizations and histories that they had conquered and ruled over. Hater was a greater player in this era. Surely though that wouldn’t be forever, but just as the faces of the politicos and royals in this current hall they wandered through looked out at them and said, “We were here first,” so someday Hater’s visage would do the same. Perhaps even his.

Also, a lot of it was just so Grop-danged pretty to look at.

But he’d seen it all already. He was watching her.

He could tell that she wasn’t keen on the historical figure portraits, which was fine. They were rather stuffy and the artistic record of treatise signings were much better off as photographs anyways, though that wasn’t to discredit the efforts of the painters. A lot of the details were meticulous. He liked that.

Sylvia liked the still life that was the subject of the next two artists on their tour. She would crane her neck to get close enough to look at the details, and she was lingering just on the edge of the audio’s segues between pieces. These were contemporary pieces from the Vedanian system - closer to the edges of the galaxy bordering the one she came from, but he wasn’t quite sure if there was something she saw and recognized, or if it was just the bright colors that caught her eye. Perhaps they could look it up in depth when they took their lunch break in the cafe before taking in another exhibit.

The next hall featured an artist that primarily focused on the Altberniad Ballet and it’s leggy, elegant dancers. He wondered if they were coming back and when they might start doing performances again; he really would love to take her. But she only seemed vaguely interested. 

And that was okay, he was storing all of this away for later. The way she played with the cord of the earbuds absent-mindedly, the way she shook her hair back when it flopped in her face a bit after tilting her head to look at a piece. The way she’d glance back at him; at first worriedly, then periodically to check in, sort of, and the way she was doing now, obviously trying not to speak. He simply followed a step or two behind, until they came to the last room, which only held a few pieces.

The tour went into detail about the artist, their history, the time period. This particular series only had half of its titles left in existence, the others lost over the years to war and theft. But the audio hadn’t yet been updated to reflect that there were four paintings presented, not three. He was a little disappointed in that but seeing as how this portion of the exhibit would be closed after today to re-arrange the works and update placards, and get ready for the media hustle, he wasn’t too upset or surprised. She frowned a bit as she looked at these remaining pieces, no doubt recalling their conversation and stomaching her disapproval again. He sidled right up beside her and waited for the tour to finish, but she looked down at him and said very loudly, pointing at the painting in the middle, “You had this hanging in your quarters, over your desk.”

He took his earbuds out. “You lost,” he said simply.

She took her earbuds out now, and bent down to give him a look. “Peepers,” she said.

“I acquired it legally,” he spilled, quicker than he thought he would. “I thought about what you said and I… I couldn’t hang onto it any more. But I paid for it. Legally. It’s on loan right now. I might sell it to them eventually.”

“...You thought about what I said.”

“Yes.”

“And you took it to heart?”

He shrugged, making a small gesture towards the paintings. “Sort of.”

Sylvia stepped back with a small shake of her head. He waited. “Your game was rigged.”


End file.
